“And if we find her?”one of them says.
A slow, welcome twitch pulls at the corner of my mouth.The thought of her capture at my own hands is a tonic.“We do as the High Luminary of Mercy wishes.”I run my tongue over my bottom lip.“We bring her back.”
The guard hesitates.“Do you think we can…contain her this time?”
My chin tilts.I meet his gaze with a look that should have been a death sentence.“Your little brain doesn’t need to worry about that.Your job is to find her.Leave the rest to me.”
He nods, glancing at the others who have stopped to listen.“And the scholar?”he asks nervously.
“He’s a symptom.The Light will excise him when the time comes.”
I scan the faces of the men surrounding me—pathetic excuses for soldiers.“Now summon your lights.We’re going deeper.”
Warmth trickles down my arms, cascading into my fingers until my own light radiates from my palms in a blinding blaze.We move through the tunnels like cold suns, weaving our way through the very shadows we were taught to fear.
If obedience is the price of power, I will pay it—and I will collect exactly what the gods owe me.
40
SEREN
The abandoned warehouse is a husk of timber and dust.
Dusk leaks through the high window, slicing across the floor.The air smells of old grain and oil; rats scurry in the rafters, their frantic feet scratching overhead.Eira tracks their path, her violet gaze unblinking and ravenous.If they slip, they will fall to their deaths; they don’t stand a chance against her.
My heart gives a painful, wonderful jolt against my ribs.Her coarse, black fur absorbs the light like a tide over dark waters.A sight I could stare at for hours—another time, perhaps.
But it’s her eyes—those incredible violet pools—that offer an affection as real as a physical embrace.She pants softly, her purple tongue lolling in a signal of comfort and adoration.Or perhaps hunger.It’s impossible to feel small and human beside her—and yet, I am more myself than I have ever been.
I have never truly met her, not as a girl from the Hollow, yet a spark of recognition shivers through me.I don’t know this wolfe, yet my heart knows her soul.We’ve danced this dance before.
Since the shadows dragged me from that pool,Serenfeels distant.A different kind of power waits inside me now—deep, patient and cold.I should be afraid.
But I’m not.
That frightens me more than any scream.I feel seen.Heard.Connected.
Kael sleeps in the corner, his back against a rotting barrel.His spectacles are tilted, ready to slip.Whenever I look at him, a tremor of energy curls through my chest and the world falls away, as if I’m suddenly exposed under his gaze.
His white hair hangs limp, moving in time with his shallow breaths.This connection has magnified since we stepped into the shrines.I can tell he feels it, too; every time pain lances his wrist.
Why do we share this?
Shivers lace my skin as her voice burrows into my skull—invasive, deliberate, pressing where my thoughts are weakest.
He is the Light to your Shadow, my child.A time will come when you will need one another.
But why?My voice carries down the thread.
The prophecy requires a balance of both to be fulfilled.He is marked.His path was written long ago, whether he likes it or not.
Kael stirs, wiping his nose with a restless finger.
What path?What prophecy?Urgency laces my words.
A phantom nail scrapes the inside of my thoughts, goosebumps coating the skin on my neck.Your path to freedom, child.Is that not what this is for?The nail digs deeper, carving grooves into my mind.Her words sound so certain.So easy.
The staff at my side begins to glow, spreading velvet rays across the timber like a small moonrise.
